Lean On Me (Phan AU)
by PrincessCCCC
Summary: Told from the perspective of Dan Howell; a British exchange student who is set on making no American friends. But when he meets fellow exchange student Phil, will he take advantage of the perfect loophole?
1. Chapter 1

It was about 7 am, and I was not having it. Mornings had always been one of my worst enemies, but today was going down in history as one of _the worst days_ of my life; and it wasn't even eight o'clock. I looked in the mirror at my bloodshot eyes, and the curls that were sticking to my forehead. "Shit…" I mumbled to myself as I dug around in my dresser to find my straightner.

I plugged it in with a speed that can only be described as desperate. I ramped it up to top heat and pulled at my hair with it, trying my best not to burn myself; and failing miserably. By 7:20 the top of my left ear was blistered, and my hair smelt burnt, but I was awake and presentable.

I pulled on a black sweatshirt and jeans, and then dug around in my little cardboard box I kept my earrings in. I pulled out my favorite gauges, and rather impatiently stuck them into my earlobes. "DAN! I see the bus! Get moving!" My eyes dashed to my alarm clock, which read 7:34. "Craaaap…" My prolonged complaining continued as I scooped up my backpack and slouched it over my shoulders. I stumbled on my way down to stairs, but caught myself on the railing just in time to swing myself off the bottom step.

I waved a quick goodbye to Mrs. Padilla on my way out the door, and jogged to the curb where Anthony was already standing. He turned when he heard my loud and bumbling footsteps. "Hey." He said simply, with a small smile. He had bags under his eyes, and his outfit consisted of sweatpants and a flannel. "You up late too?" I asked with a yawn. "Yeah." He replied. Our conversations were usually short like this, but we always got our points across.

The bus slowed down in front of us, and the old and rather questionable doors creaked open. I followed Anthony around the front, and hopped up the rubbery steps that were covered in mud from who knows how long ago. I sat by myself in the very back of the bus. I unzipped my mostly empty bag, and dug around until I found my phone. I plugged in my earbuds, and zoned out until I got to school.

I squished my backpack until it was flat, and then packed it into my locker; right next to the tower of books and paper that I didn't have time to organize. I looked up at the clock that was right above the locker to my right. It was already 8:20. I pulled _To Kill a Mockingbird_ out of my locker and turned to walk to my home room. On my way there I caught sight of Anthony and his friend Ian, and I quickly smiled when they saw me and waved. I didn't want any friends, but basic human instincts told me that I didn't want everyone to hate me.

I headed straight for a seat in the back once I arrived, which is why I totally missed that Ms. Williams had a sub. I only looked up from my book for a second when she started talking. "Hello everyone, my name is Mrs. T. My last name is very long and obnoxious, and I don't want to spend these precious 15 minutes teaching you how to pronounce it." This earned a small chuckle from a couple people, but I was busy. However, about 5 minutes later, she said something that really caught my attention. "Oh, so you're an exchange student?" I immediately looked up, thinking I had missed part of a conversation in which I was supposed to be involved; but she wasn't even looking at me. I leaned around the heads of the people in front of me, and I saw who she was talking to. He looked familiar, in the kind of way someone you've only seen once does. He had black hair that looked really similar to mine, except that his was too perfect to be natural. He had strong cheekbones, and he was chewing his bottom lip. He looked up, and met my gaze. I didn't look away immediately, simply because his eyes were the most enticing shade of blue. Once he looked back to Mrs. T, I looked back at him.

He was wearing black jeans, and a neon blue shirt with pac-man on it. He had his arms wrapped protectively around his brand new textbook, and his shoulders were slouched slightly. "So, do you know anyone yet?" She asked, and he shook his head. For some odd reason, I pitied this skinny pale foreign boy. He reminded me of myself on my first day in America; the slouch, the lip bite, and the scared eyes that darted around the room every once in awhile. "Well, you can choose a seat. I'm sure anyone of your new pupils would be happy to be your welcome wagon." She raised an eyebrow at all of the kids who were paying her no attention. She scanned the room, and her gray eyes landed on me. "Ahh, here we are. Go sit by… What's your name?" She said, now speaking to me. "Uhh, Dan." Her eyebrows shot up. "Are you an exchange student too?" I shrugged. "Yeah." "Wonderful!" She smiled widely at her matchmaking skills as she turned back to the terrified and nameless boy. "Go sit by Dan. He seems nice enough." I don't think she thought I heard the last part, but I did.

He scurried over to the empty desk on my right, and plopped his books down. I watched him intently as he ran his eyes over his schedule at least a hundred times. He evently huffed, and tucked it back into his folder. He crossed his arms, and raised an eyebrow at my book. "Isn't that book, like, really complicated?" His voice was low, and I he spoke with a rather comforting British accent. I looked down at the watermarked pages; noticing how torn the binding was. I shrugged. "Not really. I read it all the time." He nodded. I had the urge to speak to him, but I was so out of practice with the whole social thing.

I had left England in July, and started living with the Padillas around August 1st. I had made zero friends (except for Anthony, kind of) and I had not planned on making any. But on that day in late October, I was raking my brain for conversation topics. I practically face palmed when I realized that I had almost asked him about pac-man before I knew his name. "So, what's your name?" "Phil." He responded quickly, with the kind of emphasis that made it sound like he used to be called something else. "Oh, I'm Dan." He looked at me and nodded slightly once he realized I was being nice to him. "I'm from the UK too." I said stupidly, immediately regretting it. "Yeah, I can tell." His voice really was low, surprisingly so. He looked too little for the amount of sound he could produce. I ran my tongue along the inside of my teeth, wondering whether or not I should be sarcastic with him. After all, he had already been sarcastic with me, and we'd known each other five minutes. But it wasn't sincere sarcasm, it just sounded like he wanted me to know he couldn't be messed with.

The bell rang what seemed like 10 seconds later, and his eyes widened. He quickly grabbed his schedule, and read over it; obviously searching for his first class. "Didn't you meet the teachers and stuff? Take a tour?" I couldn't help but glance at the clock. I didn't really want to be late, but I couldn't leave him to figure out a three story school by himself. "Yeah, but I'm _really_ bad with directions and, well, memory in general." I gotta hand it to him, he was pretty damn adorable. I sighed, reaching for his schedule and grabbing it from him; earning a squeal of protest from him. It was covered in handwritten notes and highlighter, and it was the most wrinkled piece of paper I'd ever seen.

I pointed to the first class. "This is my first hour too, I'll walk with you." That was the first time I made him smile, and it made me feel warm on the inside; like my organs were made of sparks. It sounds nasty, but it felt amazing.

I followed him to his locker, and it was only a couple classrooms down from mine, so I walked to mine and grabbed a notebook instead of waiting with him. "Dan? Dan?" I heard his anxious voice from down the hall. I waved my hand over the heads of everyone in the hall, and prayed that he could recognize wrists. I felt his shoulder brush against mine, and I turned to find him wide eyed staring at the baseball team walking down the hall. They were all seniors, so they were a year older than us. They walked with purpose, like they weren't afraid of anything that might dare to stand in their path. I was terrified of them when I first started here, but I quickly realized they wouldn't dare mess with me; I was 6 feet tall with my ears pierced and I rarely appeared to care. I was the definition of bad news.

But Phil was a different story. He was only 5'8, and his skinny limbs and scared eyes made him out to be a weakling. One of the bigger kids, who was walking in the front, stepped to the side and smashed his shoulder right into Phil; he hit the ground hard, and I heard the breath leave his lungs as his chest convulsed. The way Phil looked up at me, made me hate baseball and everyone who had ever played it. The air rushed upwards through my throat and between my lips before I could think about it. "Hey! Douchebag! Watch where you're going!" I wrapped my fingers around Phil's bicep and pulled him up. He side stepped, so he was cowering behind me. The idiot only turned his head slightly, and then back to his friends. I could hear him mocking my accent as he walked away. I took a step forward to follow him, but the pressure of Phil's hand on my shoulder stopped me.

I looked down at it, and then turned around to meet his gaze. I proceeded to look down at myself. I might have come off as strong and terrifying, but I really was quite a dork. I couldn't mess anyone up; especially since their arms were thicker than my legs. Phil cleared his throat then, and I only realized he had been holding on to me after he dropped his hand. "Thanks." His voice was rather shaky. Geez, he was afraid. He looked like a bunny that had decided to cross the road, and had just realized what a huge mistake it's made. "No problem." I responded quietly. I waved my hand as I started down the hall, motioning for him to follow me. Let's just say that he didn't object.


	2. Chapter 2

As I stepped through the door of Mr. Siraski's classroom, the bell rang. I looked over my shoulder and told Phil to follow me, which he did. I dragged my feet on the way to my desk, and plopped myself down in the uncomfortable plastic seat. I looked up to see Phil leaving his stuff on his desk and going up to the front of the class, like he had last hour. "Phil! PHIL!" I whisper yelled after him. He shot me a quizzical look, and then continued walking. I sighed, slouching back against my seat. I tried to warn him, I thought. It's not my fault Mr. Siraski hates Mondays more than he hates Hitler.

I didn't hear what Phil said, but it sure set that ancient son of a bitch off. He stood up from his seat, and started ranting about the mediocrity of today's adolescents. "I don't understand how you just assume I know who you are." He grumbled. "It's not like I have time to remember all of the idiot exchange students I get every year. You all blend together, with your accents and the terrified look in your eyes; I mean come on! I'm not a freaking robot! I don't have time for you imbeciles!" By that point, I didn't even understand what he was talking about anymore; but what I did understand, was that Phil looked like he was gonna cry.

I could see him shaking from across the room, and his eyes looked glassy. His mouth was hanging open slightly, in an attempt to respond that I knew would fail. "I mean, your name is Phil for god's sake! Do you have any idea how many Phillips I have this year? One too many." "Hey! Douchebag! You wanna pick on me for my accent?" I pushed myself up out of my chair, and held my arms out; showing off in a way I usually degrade others for. His eyes widened slightly, and he quickly inhaled. Phil scurried towards me, tucking himself into the smallest amount of space possible as he sat down.

Mr. Siraski looked pissed, but not pissed enough to report me for language. He bent over slightly and slouched back into his seat. I looked around at everyone, and brought my arms back down to my sides. Every pair of eyes was resting on me. Some were shocked, others were terrified; and for the first time, no one was brave enough to mock me.

About halfway through work time, I looked up from my doodle. Phil had his textbook open on his desk, but he was paying it no attention. He had his forearms tucked under his desk with his phone in his hands, and he was typing furiously. "If you're reporting him it won't help, he always gets out of it." He looked up, and met my eyes with unexpected intensity. "Thanks." Was all he said, before looking back down and continuing typing in what looked like a google document. I wanted to respond, but I couldn't find the words to express how I was feeling.

I must've been staring, because several minutes later Phil looked up again, speaking sharply. "Can I help you?" I raised an eyebrow at him, and it must've been pretty menacing, 'cause he flinched. He looked back down to his phone, turning slightly so I couldn't see his face. He must've been blushing.

I couldn't form sentences with the words that were spinning in my brain. I wasn't at a loss for words, 'cause I had plenty. I just couldn't put them together into a proper conjunction. I made eye contact with Mr. Siraski as he started on his way towards Phil's desk; obviously ready to grill him on his phone usage. My eyes widened, and I looked to Phil, and he was oblivious (of course.) With a burst of spontaneity, I reached out and grabbed his phone from him; earning a flinch and an outburst from him. "Hey, Phil give that back!" I immediately stuffed his phone in my pocket. I looked back up at him, silencing him with a glance.

He turned his body back towards me, and away from Mr. Siraski. The Douchebag's mouth fell open, not having seen me move in the past month. "What has gotten into you Mr. Howell?" He shook his head, and I exhaled as he walked away. Phil looked at me quizzically. "I kind of need that." He said, shooting a glance to my pocket. I rolled my eyes. "I'm gonna give it back, you twit. But not here, he'll see and then you'll be in even more trouble." "You mean _we'll_ be in even more trouble." "Whatever you say." I turned back towards the front of the class then, and tried my best to ignore Phil. It didn't work very well, but I can say with confidence that I tried.

He just struck me as different. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but he wasn't like everyone else. I mean, obviously he wasn't from where I was from, and he wasn't from America; but there was something more there. I could just feel the secret personality oozing out of his sarcastic and snappy shell.

When you're scared, you become who you truly are. With nothing on your mind besides not dying, you have no brain power left to deal with things like ingenuine personality traits. When Phil was assaulted or even just threatened, he looked so sincere. Like he could be nice, maybe even sweet. I don't know why, but I believed in that Phil; I wanted to befriend that Phil. He reminded me of myself, but he was also my exact opposite. The idea of having an American friend had always repulsed me, so I had decided early on that I would befriend no one here. But Phil was British. And he was also _really_ attractive.


	3. Chapter 3

I threw my backpack onto the couch a lot harder than I meant to, causing Anthony to look up from his phone. "Dude, are you okay?" I nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just clumsy." He nodded half heartedly, and looked back down at his screen; the light reflecting off his eyes. I turned and strolled into the kitchen, grabbing a mini bag of Doritos. I crossed back through the entryway on my way to the stairs, and he was still standing there. His thumbs were pounding against his phone, and he hadn't even bothered to set his bag down yet. I paused just as I took hold of the railing. "Are _you_ okay?" He looked up with wide eyes. "Yeah, I'm totally fine. Why?" I shrugged. "Don't know, you just seem agitated." He tilted his head slightly like he didn't know what that meant, before shrugging back at me and going back to his phone; this time with the the subtext being 'leave me alone.'

I didn't bother to respond to him, he obviously wouldn't have noticed even if I had. I took the stairs two at a time, in a rush to stalk Phil on social media. I got all the way upstairs, and then realized I had forgotten my bag downstairs. I groaned, and pushed myself off the door frame and back down the stairs. I heard the first sniffle about halfway down, at which point I slowed and walked silently down the final steps. I peeked my head around the end of the wall, and saw Anthony on the couch; with his head in his hands, and his shoulders shaking with sobs. I immediately turned and ran, being the awkward being I am. I tore through my bedroom door, having no interest in collecting my backpack.

I flopped down onto my bed, letting myself go limp. My cheek squashed against the pillow, and I didn't bother moving. I let my mind wander, and things got weird. I started contemplating the theoretical probability of Phil actually being nice. Because most sarcastic people are just that, assholes. But the way Phil looked at me like he needed my protection had me thinking; and that was rare for me.

After about 25 more minutes of me calculating in my head, I heard Anthony's door shut. I immediately perked up. I swung my legs off my bed, and jogged towards the door. I walked with purpose for once as I made my way to the couch. I wrapped my fingers around the strap and slung it over my shoulder. I looked up, and Anthony's backpack was sitting on the counter with all the zippers open. I took a few steps towards it, and I could see the crinkled papers and dislodged books that were overflowing out the sides. "Oh, hey…" I jumped at the sound of Anthony behind me. I turned around to see him wiping his nose. His eyes were slightly pink, but the shocking part of his face was how pissed he looked. He had his right hand wrapped around his phone so tight I thought it might crack in half, and his eyebrows were permanently set in a scowl. I stepped out of his way, and he ripped his backpack off the counter and swung it over his shoulder with so much force that papers went flying. "Should I even ask?" I picked several of the stray papers up as I spoke, and he let a puffy sigh out of his nose. He grabbed them from my hand. After that, he spoke so fast I missed a few things. "So today on the bus Ian took my phone. Well, it turns out it was open to a… private conversation at the time, and he read something he wasn't supposed to know and he just told me what he knows and now I have to make sure he doesn't tell anybody and I don't know what to do." His voice had grown to the point of a yell by the end, and I miraculously found a response somehow. "Anthony you're smart, you'll figure it out. Plus, he's your best friend, and no 'accidental discovery' is worth losing him. You'll find a way through this. I know you will." I offered him a sad smile, which he returned with a sigh. "Let's hope you're right." "I'm always right." I walked past him, and patted his back lightly on my way.

At this point I was very ready to go to sleep. I set my bag on my desk, and dug around looking for my phone. I pulled up my instagram, and searched Phil's name. I found him easily, and followed him. I immediately started scrolling, and every other picture made me chuckle. It's not that his pictures were funny, it's that he had these hilarious sarcastic captions that just hit me right in the giggles. In the middle of his page, I found a very serious looking selfie. It was in black and white, and his face was set in a dry smirk. I smirked back, trying not to be too ridiculous. What can I say? He was really hot. That's when it hit me. I realized there were only several things Anthony would not want Ian to know, and one of them was something I was an expert at.

I quickly set my phone down, and yet again opened my door. I walked across the hall towards his door, and raised my fist to knock. I hesitated, questioning my intentions. I proved to myself several times over that I meant nothing but good, and then I tapped my hand against the painted wood. He opened the door with a very 'what the hell' expression, which wasn't surprising. "Hi, Anthony ummm… I have something to say that I think might help you, so I'm just gonna say it. I ask that you think before you respond, and please if you disagree for some reason don't-" "Dude, you are not 'just saying it'." I closed my mouth, nodded my head slightly, took a breath and then told him the only thing you would never expect to escape my lips. "I'm gay."


	4. Chapter 4

It took him a while, but he eventually realized I wasn't kidding. "Wait, so, are you out?" I shrugged. "It's not confidential or anything like that, but I don't tend to share it with strangers." He nodded. "Why did you share it with me?" He tilted his head slightly, and I raised an eyebrow at his feigning of confusion. "I think you know the answer to that." I stuffed my fingers into my shallow pockets, and he shook his head. "No. I'm not… I can't… It's not true. I am not." His eyes were getting glassy, and he tried to shut his door. I reached my arm out to hold it open. He turned his face away, so I couldn't see him.

"Anthony, I know it feels strange at first. I know it's scary and confusing, but I need you to know I'm here for you. I understand everything you're feeling." "No you don't!" His sudden outburst made me jump, pulling my hand back. The second I let go it slammed shut; had he been pushing against me?

I sighed and leaned against the wall next to his door. "Anthony, whatever you're feeling I can help you work through it; I promise." After a long pause, the handle clicked, and the door opened just enough for me to see one of his eyes. I smiled politely, and he opened it all the way and invited me in. I had only ever been in his room twice before. Once when he gave me a tour, and once when I walked in on accident. It was surprisingly nice, super neat and it smelled like fake lemon. "Dude, what were you doing in here, stress cleaning?" He chuckled dryly. "Actually, yes." My cheeks colored slightly. "Oh." Was the smartest response I could think up.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you, I just don't understand my own feelings anymore." I nodded slightly. "Yeah, I get it." He sat on his bed with a sigh. I looked around, and ended up sitting awkwardly in the chair that I had almost tripped on on my way in. He laid back, squishing his pillow down to half its height. "So, Ian knows. I wish I could've told him on my own time, but ' _no'_." He held up air quotes as he seethed. I paused before responding, thinking about what a responsible person would say. "Well, if you could've told him on your own time, what would you have said?"

He bit his lip, and his eyes fluttered around the room; focusing on everything but me. I asked again, abbreviating this time. He sighed, and looked me in the eye as he sat up. "Don't laugh, okay?" I nodded in response, and then he started talking to the wall with the kind of intensity you'd expect out of a mental patient. "Ian, I know this is the last thing you'd ever expect from me, but it's the truth, and I hope you can respect that. I've always felt very connected to you, but I've always passed it off as friendship… Until now." He swallowed, and started running his fingers through his hair nervously. "I just, wanna be with you all the time; but when I'm with you I can barely resist the urge to touch you, and it scares me." He was holding in his emotions as he confessed his true feelings to the drywall. "I'm afraid, Ian. I'm afraid you're gonna hate me, I'm afraid you'll tell everyone, I'm afraid that you'll try and _'fix'_ me." Again with the air quotes. "But most of all, I'm afraid I won't be able to stop myself one of these day. I'm afraid that with no warning, I'll grab you and kiss you; and I'm fully aware that it won't turn out the way I've imagined it."

That night, Anthony and I were seated at the table, waiting for his parents to come sit down for dinner. He had his forearms hidden under the table texting, which of course reminded me of Phil; which sent me down a rabbit hole of thoughts that I didn't really _want_ to think, but I couldn't help myself.

His Dad sat down first, with a warm smile on his face. Then his Mom, and she was carrying several plates of food. Mr. Padilla immediately jumped up, helping her set them down after kissing her cheek. I couldn't help but watch them interact. It was fascinating to see a couple with the kind of chemistry they had.

Anthony nudged me with his elbow, still looking at his phone. I looked down at it, and it was a text that he hadn't sent yet. I read it over, and it was almost identical to what he had told me earlier. He locked eyes with me, obviously screaming for help. I nodded, giving him a reassuring smile. God, I felt like a guidance counselor; but it seemed to help. He pressed send, and it was such a long message that it took almost 30 seconds to be delivered.

I was so focused on the thin blue line as it travelled across the screen, and then the word "delivered" below the bubble, that I didn't even notice that they had started conversing. That is, until I heard a certain name. "Phil, I think that's it. Either that or like, Dil." My head snapped up at the mentioning of his name. "What do you think is a Phil?" "Ian's exchange student. He just started school with us today, actually." I nodded calmly, but on the inside I was screaming. I had no idea why I had allowed it to happen, but I was full on crushing on someone who appeared to dislike me; not to mention I had just met him today.

"Dan!" I looked up again, this time even more distracted. "Hm?" "Do you know him?" "Who?" "Phil." Mr. Padilla was obviously laughing at me a little bit, but I didn't have the mental capacity to deal with him at the moment. My cheeks flushed a little as I talked about him, and I was praying that Anthony wouldn't notice. Of course he was too distracted by the three little dots that had popped up on Ian's side of his screen. "A little bit, I walked him to a couple classes." I immediately picked up my fork and wrapped it in spaghetti, taking a rather ridiculously large bite in order to stop all attempts at conversation.

I chewed meticulously, trying to fake preoccupation that _wasn't_ to do with Phil. It didn't work of course, but I tried. "Dan! What on Earth are you thinking about? I've said your name three times." I looked up at Mrs. Padilla, trying to think of an excuse. "Uhhh, just this homework thing. What is it?" It was obvious she didn't believe me, but she just continued on. "What did you do to your ear?" I instinctively reached up to feel it, which was a mistake. I hissed in pain, and flinched away from myself. "I burned it this morning." She nodded, and it would have been impossible to miss the worried eye contact she made with her husband.

Anthony shot up, standing so quickly that he pushed his chair backwards. I instinctively got up to follow him, but his Dad beat me to it. He rushed after him, and his Mom was right behind him, but she stopped at the bottom of the stairs. Then they had some whispered and overdramatic conversation that I was paying no attention to; because through the front window, I could see a boy walking down the pavement. A boy who was lanky, and pale as a ghost. As soon as I laid eyes on him, he slowed his walk to a halt, and turned to look back at me.


	5. Chapter 5

He rolled his vibrant eyes at my gawking, and I just stared as he walked away. What the hell was that? I had no idea what he was doing here, but I sure wasn't complaining. I walked to the window, and I watched until he was out of sight completely. What made me walk up to the window and press my forehead up against the glass, was how he turned and glanced back at my house before rounding the corner and pulling his hood up.

I turned and pressed my back against the glass, letting my muscles relax and my bum hit the floor with a thud. I looked up briefly, and I saw that Mr. and Mrs. Padilla had started making their way up the stairs to Anthony's room. I wanted to stand and join them, but I had this weird feeling in my limbs; like half my body was all the sudden jelly. Before I recount my next decision, let me explain some things. I knew full well that my only (sort of) friend was probably in the middle of a crisis. I also knew full well that this would be _the worst_ possible way to counteract that crisis. Despite these relevant facts, I followed my gut in this moment of time. I slipped some shoes on, twisted the door handle, and stepped out into the wintery air; literally _chasing_ after a boy I didn't really know.

I let my feet lead me down the pavement, and I rounded the corner within no time. I saw his figure getting smaller against the light of the moon, and I jogged after him for about half a block. I slowed my pace, gaining some sense as I continued walking. I quickly came to the realization that I, Daniel Howell, was chasing some guy named Phil down an alley-like street towards a sketchy neighborhood at around 8 o'clock at night. By the time this realization hit me, I was also beginning to remember that I was not a runner. I didn't run; why the hell did I just run 2 ½ blocks for a guy that _rolled his eyes_ at the sight of me? I had absolutely no idea. I mean, he was hot; but attractive people don't usually cause others to go against very well intact better judgement.

People who let other humans rule their life were from bad romantic comedies and insane asylums. Those kind of people didn't exist; especially in the form of a cynical British exchange student who refused to make friends. And yet there I was, an out of breath, lovesick, poor excuse for an introvert. I continued walking, like any human would; obviously. About halfway down the block, goosebumps rose all over my skin, and I was confronted with the feeling of being watched. Phil's outline was still treading along in front of me, so I figured it was just me being ridiculous. That is, until the scraping and thudding of footsteps behind me became too loud to tune out.

I have no idea how I didn't notice it, or how they stayed incognito for so long, but they were definitely there, and they were definitely getting louder. I thought about taking off running, but I knew that would just lead whoever it was to Phil; which would not be a great ice breaker. _Hey I was stalking you and then a rapist started following me so I led him to you. Have a great day!_ I don't think so. So I continued on, like the bumbling idiot I was, until finally I could practically feel them behind me. At which point, I was faced with the decision to either threaten them, or run like hell. I'm sure you can guess which option I chose.

My feet sped up faster than the tasmanian devil. I turned the nearest corner, running farther into the darkness. The footsteps followed me, as expected. They were obviously faster than me though, because running didn't get me very far. I was barely around the turn before I felt a yank on the back of my shirt. It brought me down to the ground hard, and I tried to push myself up with my elbows, but a blunt force hit the side of my face, and I was down for the count. I felt them patting my pockets, searching for who knows what, and I thanked my lucky stars that it had been a spontaneous field trip.

"They" were only halfway done with my pockets when a shout broke through the silence of the night. The hands left my pockets immediately, and I heard the footsteps taking off down the street. A new set of footsteps approached; first slowly, and then gaining speed as they caught sight of me. A quiet voice became audible, but all I could hear were mushy formations that sounded kind of like syllables. My ears caught one thing, my name. It was pronounced with such surprise. That's when I realized that my savior was none other than Phil. Something about the revelation made my ears tune into overdrive, trying to catch every word he spoke. "Dan? Dan can you hear me?" I tried to nod, and I guess it worked. "Oh thank God. How bad is it?" I grunted, trying to clear my head of the fuzziness that appeared every time I attempted to form a coherent thought. "Are you conscious?" I thought I was, but I didn't know if I was entirely correct. Everytime I tried to move my limbs, it was like I was clawing against the blackness inside my head without actually moving. Let me tell you, it was weird.

Finally, after Phil talking to me for who knows how long, and endless amounts of me trying to move myself off of the freezing concrete, I finally opened my eyes. The light basically murdered my eyeballs, but that was okay; because the outline that was partially in my field of vision, was Phil's worried face.

He had these two little creases between his eyebrows, and his eyes were frantic; even though the rest of him looked insanely tired. The second my eyes opened, his fluttered in surprise. "Dan!" His lips parted in a sunny smile, of course making me wish I had the control over my facial muscles needed to smile back. He looked down at my drooping eyelids, and was clearly conflicted. I tried to form words, and it just came out as "Houses, take, dark, home, sleep." And a whole other bunch of incoherent jumble. Phil shushed me quietly, and with a rather determined look about him, literally scooped me off the ground and into his arms. I have no idea how he did it, now that I think about it. He just… did.

I let my head go limp against his neck, and I didn't have the brain capacity available to ask him where the hell he was taking me. I remember him walking quickly, and feeling like I was asleep while being conscious. The rush of warmth (followed by the closing of a door) felt amazing. It engulfed me in an air blanket, and combined with being in Phil's arms, just made me want to freeze this strange, half awake moment and keep it forever. But pretty soon I smelt the oddly familiar smell of my bedroom, and the creak of the springs as I was lowered onto my mattress. Phil removed his arms completely, and the lack of warmth that followed was horrendous. I (miraculously) reached out, catching the edge of his shirt with my feeble fingers. I choked up one word, "Stay." And the next thing I knew, Phil Lester was cuddled up next to me.


	6. Chapter 6

I rolled onto my side, and wiped my forehead with the back of my hand; slicking away the unusually large amount of sweat that had formed there. I wrapped my fingers back around the top of my blankets, and pulled them up around my shoulders unsuccessfully. They were being held down by something, and I wasn't coherent enough at the time to realize why that could be. I simply tugged harder, and succeeded in moving whatever was holding them down. What followed, was me getting pummeled in the back by what I quickly realized to be another human. I slipped over the edge of my bed, and didn't let go of my blankets, so this other person was pulled off the bed and onto my now awakened self.

Everything came into view uncomfortably fast, and I was immediately rather ticked at whoever was hitching a ride in my bed. That is, until I caught sight of the bright blue eyes that were inches from mine; and were now mirroring my insanely uncomfortable expression. We just stared at each other, not saying anything for a solid 10 seconds. Which, I can assure you, felt like 10 minutes. He spoke up, surprisingly. "Uh, I'm sorry. I'll go." His cheeks flushed a deep pink as he scrambled to untangle himself from the mass of blankets that was now congealed on my floor.

I looked up at him in awe, watching his shoulders flex through his tank top as he reached for his jacket. He flung it over his upper body and practically fled the room before I could even get a word in. I felt very bereft, considering the fact that we had slept in the same bed, and yet I couldn't even get a proper goodbye out of him.

I sat up all the way, pushing myself off of my elbows and onto my bum. I pulled my blanket up around my head, and fell back onto my floor with a groan. _Just as things couldn't get any more awkward, I had to go and get mugged_. There was a pause in my mental processing, and then I sat up stick straight. Because yes I had been mugged, but I hadn't been injured. Which means _somebody_ was responsible for my current well being. I thought back through the oddly fuzzy memory. I was on the ground, whether I had fallen or been pushed I knew not. What I did know was that the thing responsible for scaring off the villain, was a pair of blue eyes. After that, the hero had brought me home, and stayed with me through the night.

I jumped up onto my feet, throwing the blanket on the ground clumsily. _I have investigating to do._ I looked down at my wrinkled outfit, checking to make sure I had clothes on before I ran out into my small hallway. As I stepped towards the top of the stairs, a small thud noise came from Anthony's room. It slowed me down, as I wondered what he could possibly be doing. I came to a halt as his door opened, and he emerged, shirtless and giggling. He froze when he saw me, and I tilted my head in confusion as Ian came into view behind him (also shirtless.) My eyes widened as I looked back and forth between the two of them. Anthony opened his mouth to explain, but I raised my hand to stop him. "You can explain later, I have a knight to chase." That made both their foreheads bristle in confusion, but I didn't stay to explain.

I made my way down the stairs dangerously fast, and regretted the decision to not wear shoes as the prickly pavement bit at my socks. The sunrise was bright enough to burn my eyes as I looked both ways down the street, and saw Phil speed walking to my right. Which is a strange thought now, considering that his house was in the other direction, but at the time I wasn't concerned with that kind of thing. I started jogging after him, crossing the street idiotically between blocks. I was suppressing the urge to laugh at myself the entire way. Up until that point, I had considered myself to be a fairly logical person. Then, I started chasing boys down sidewalks, and I lost all credibility. He looked back over his shoulder when I was about 20 feet away, and when he saw it was me, he stopped walking. He turned all the around, facing me as I slowed my pace considerably.

I stopped a little less than 10 feet away, stuffing my hands in my pockets. He crossed his arms over his chest, looking me up and down. I still remember the way he used to talk to me, like every word wasn't what he really wanted to say. "Why are you following me? Especially after last time." My breath stuttered, and all of my reasons for following him were suddenly inappropriate. I managed to piece together a sassy response, feeling the need to hide all of my emotions. "Why did you stay last night?" His posture hardened. "I don't have to answer that." I raised my eyebrows at his suddenly angered expression. "If you don't answer me, then I won't answer you." There was a long pause after that, where he contemplated how much information to give away and I contemplated how many opportunities to kiss him I had already missed. He sighed, his shoulders loosening. "I'll answer yours, but I think you should answer first." I crossed my arms questioningly. "And why's that?" He rolled his eyes, subconsciously stepping towards me. "Just answer. Why are you following me?"

I relaxed my arms, picking at the sides of my jeans as I made the conscious decision to confess. "I don't know, you seem like the kind of person I would like to befriend." He looked shocked by my genuine statement, and when he asked me another question, I didn't have enough sarcasm left to deny his curiosity. "Why me? You don't seem to like making friends, which makes me wonder about what you could possibly see in me." I scoffed slightly. "I have no problem with friends, but most of the Americans I've come into contact with haven't exactly been my type." He smirked at me. "You can't possibly think I would make a better friend just because I'm British. I'm also about 70% sure that that's racist." I laughed, and responded as best I could. "It's not just the Briticism that makes you better. You just _seem_ kind. Which, is something I could use in my life." I couldn't really tell in the abrasive morning light, but it looked like he blushed. "Well thanks, but I don't think we should get any more friendly than we've already been."

I took an instinctive step towards him, putting us closer together than I had intended. "Why not?" His eyes widened, and I could've sworn that they flickered to my lips. As he spoke, he stumbled backwards. "Well, you and I obviously came to America for different reasons, and I don't know if we could ever really get along-" I shook my head, not understanding where he could possibly be coming from. "What are you talking about? We were _just_ getting along." He kept walking backwards. I took a step towards him, and he held out his hands in defense. "Please, go back home." I kept shaking my head. "I don't wanna go home until you tell me what you're talking about." As I finished speaking, he took several abrupt steps towards me. His expression and words darkened in unison, like he had suddenly slipped into a completely different personality. "There are things you don't know about me, Dan." His face was now closer to mine than ever before, and the feel of his breath brought goosebumps to my skin. His eyes were so close to mine, that I could see every tiny stripe of ocean. "Things I don't ever want you to know. Now, please. Let's keep things the way they are." This side of Phil was another that I wanted so badly to investigate, but the shocking nature of his demand made me agree immediately. "Okay." I said skimpily.

He stepped backwards first, and as he turned to walk away I contemplated the past 24 hours. It had been one of those days that felt as if it had gone on forever, but then when I tried to remember it, it slipped from my memory; leaving only the most important events behind. Yesterday morning, I had woken up a curly haired cynical mess. This morning, I had woken up next to Phil. That thought brought me full circle, because the truth of the matter was, that he had never answered my question. That made me smirk. _What is he hiding?_

I wanted so badly to know him. What he likes, what he hates. What made him tick (in every sense of the word.) And yet, he was so unwilling to let me into his head. I turned on my heel, and started jogging back to my house, very motivated for the day ahead of me. I was never one for challenges, but I was nowhere near ready to give up on Phil.


	7. Chapter 7

That morning was different than every morning that had come before it. I was completely put together, bouncing on my toes, waiting for the bus 15 minutes before it was scheduled to arrive. I was accompanied by Anthony and Ian, who were now a thing, per Anthony's rushed explanation. Every once in awhile I would consider telling them to stop it with the PDA, but every time I knew I would be on the villainous end of that debate, so I never did.

I checked my phone numerous times, hoping that Phil would somehow magically have my number, and that he would text me a long thought out explanation, but guess what? Never happened. However, I did get an apology that day. It just wasn't over text.

As I stepped off the bus and towards the school doors, I looked all around me, searching for a certain pair of eyes. I didn't find them; they found me. I was halfway to the entrance, when somebody grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the huddle of students. The world blurred around me, and all of the sudden I was toppled into the patch of shady grass underneath a giant oak. I looked to my right to see who had dragged me there, and it was none other than Phil Lester. I cleared my throat, and spoke in the most un-awkward way possible. "You know, I'm not so sure if I'm the one following you anymore." He rolled his eyes, thankfully having reverted back to his normal self since our last conversation. He also cleared his throat, the words that went along with it unevenly spaced. "I'm sorry. You know, for the way I acted this morning. That wasn't cool of me." I nodded, my mind running somewhere along the lines of _'no, it was hot of you.'_ I shrugged, seeing as he was waiting for me to respond. "It's fine. I snap at people all the time." Then I turned, staring right at him. I waited for him to look at me, then I spoke. "And I understand having things you don't want anyone to know." He gave me a small half smile. Of course, at the time, we had no idea that we were hauling the exact same baggage.

We both looked up just then, the sound of commotion growing in volume. I craned my neck to see what was happening, and when I laid eyes on what was taking place, I forced myself up off the ground. I looked back at Phil, who was watching me questioningly. I reached my hand out, and he took it, allowing me to pull him up. I started walking towards the small crowd that had formed around Ian and Anthony, the soft footsteps of Phil trailing along behind me.

The wall of backs had a slight indent, and that's where I pushed through. Nobody dared to push back. Ian and Anthony were at verbal war with the guy who had pushed Phil in the hallway, and several of his buddies. At that point in time, their odds were not looking too good. I stepped forward into plain sight of the opposition when I heard the word _'fag.'_ I walked forward, taking a stand next to Anthony. "What was that?" I said bluntly, and the guy I knew as Rich responded. "I said, that being a fag is wrong. These two shouldn't be allowed to PDA. I mean, it's fine if you're gay, but don't shove it down our throats, you know?" He said, looking to his friends for support. They both nodded, one looking more enthusiastic than the other.

I looked over at Ian and Anthony's hurt and surprised faces, and my defensive side kicked in. Believe me, I considered this statement before it came out of my mouth and was broadcast to the entire school, but there came a point where my brain decided to just say it. "Well, I'm gay. Homosexual. Into the lads. You gonna call me derogatory names?" The three of them just stood there, staring at me in disgusted shock. "I thought not. So scram." They looked at each other, than back at me. I rolled my shoulders back, becoming my true height. "I said, scram." They all backed away slowly, and then turned and ran. I smiled, very pleased with myself. That is, until the looks on the faces of the people around me registered in my head. Not one person didn't look surprised. Well, except Ian and Anthony. They looked very clued in.

I looked around as smiles grew on everyone's faces. Some people applauded awkwardly, but everyone eventually dispersed and started heading inside. Ian and Anthony thanked me quietly, walking off with their hands linked. I was about to follow the crowd inside, when a hand landed on my shoulder, stopping me. I turned around, and Phil's face was suddenly the focus of my world. He swallowed obviously, and my brain was filled with inappropriate images. "So..." He said awkwardly, as his hand slipped off my shoulder, and stopped over my heart. I was frozen, staring at his pale hand on top of my dark shirt. He looked me in the eye, and then looked back down to his hand; allowing it to stay on my chest. "Your heart is beating really fast." I nodded, and he looked back up to meet my eyes. "Why's that?" His voice was getting quieter with every statement, and it had me worried about the state of my pants. "I'm afraid." His face was pure curiosity. "What are you afraid of?" Our eyes were locked, and I responded with probably the most sincere thing I could've said at the time. "You." He tilted his head, as I freaked out on the inside. "Why are you afraid of me?" I grabbed my left arm with my right, keeping myself from reaching out to touch him. He was so close, so accessible. "I don't want you to think of me differently, now that you know." My heart was picking up again, and he looked back at his hand. "Sometimes it's hard for straight guys to accept that it's possible for hetero-homo friendships to exist."

His eyes widened, and he brought his hand back down to his side. I felt the loss immediately, and I reached out to take his hand instinctively. I thought his eyes were already wide, but when I took his hand in mine they bugged out of his head. "I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." He shook his head, and he looked like he was suppressing something. The fact that he hadn't let go of my hand yet had me reeling. He looked up at me, his expression raw and uncontrolled. He let go of my hand, pulling his hand back to his side. "I'm sorry Dan, I know I'm acting really weird, and I really wish I could explain it to you, but I can't." "But, Phil-" "I really am sorry, but we also really don't have time for this right now. Just, forget this happened for today." He gave me a moment to speak, and I chose silence. "Can we just go to class?" He asked, without really asking. I nodded, knowing full well that protesting would make everything worse. He stepped to the side and walked past me, and I turned to follow him. I swear I was trying to keep my eyes above sea level, but when Phil Lester is walking in front of you, that's an impossible task.


	8. Chapter 8

I set my stuff on my desk, and sat down a little harder than I had intended. I looked up as Phil walked around the back of me, and sat in the desk to my right. However, my dreams were dashed when Mrs. Williams met Phil's eyes, confusion all over her face. "Are you new?" She said, and Phil looked at me for a brief moment before responding. "Yeah, but I was here yesterday." Mrs. Williams nodded, making sure everyone knew she understood. "Okay, so you must be Phillip?" I couldn't help but snicker as Phil turned light pink. "It's just Phil, thanks." She nodded, and told him to move up to an empty desk in the front.

I could feel my face fall, and I'm sure Phil could too. He gave me a sad smile, and made his way past me up to his new seat. I of course watched him for the rest of homeroom, noticing all of the times the girl next to him tried to talk to him, and every single time he said something sassy. She eventually left him alone, bringing a smile to my face. I contemplated quickly how similar his actions towards her today, and towards me yesterday were. I let it drop, knowing that if I allowed myself I could think about that all day. I pulled out my book, and continued reading from where I had left off. I was at the part where Atticus shoots the dog when the bell rang.

I looked up, and saw Phil talking to Mrs. Williams. I gathered my things slowly, hoping to walk with him on the way to our first hour. Alas, the minute hand twitched, and Phil was still talking away. I sighed audibly, and made my way out the door; feeling oddly deflated. I didn't dare to allow myself a backward glance, that is until I heard his soft voice calling my name. "Dan!" He exclaimed, hastily grabbing his things and stepping quickly to my side. I looked at him in disbelief, but his face was begging me not to question him, so I complied.

On our way down the hall, I kept stealing glances in his direction. I was getting more confused by the second as we strolled casually through the ocean of bodies you Americans call hallways. I was scrolling back through me head, trying to figure out what could have possibly changed in Phil's brain that would make him not snap at me every time we interacted. I came up blank as we reached his locker. I kept walking, arriving at my own a short time later. I was pulling out my stack of notebooks for my first three classes, when a guy with brown curly hair and oddly large eyes approached me.

I didn't recognize him immediately, leading me to believe he was a sophomore, aka not in my grade. "Um, hi. You're Dan, right?" I looked at him quizzically, noticing a shorter and more boxy faced boy standing several feet behind him. "Yeah, that's me." I responded, trying to avoid the usual awkward undertone that all of my sentences contain. "I'm PJ, and my friend Chris and I just wanted to thank you for what you did this morning. You know, for Ian and Anthony." I smiled rather bashfully, not quite sure on how I was supposed to react. "Uh, you're welcome." PJ smiled, and spoke one last sentence. "It actually inspired me and Chris to come out." He said those words as if he were afraid to say them, and yet I later came to the conclusion that they were the only reason he approached me. He stepped away nervously, not giving me time to respond.

Him and Chris linked hands on their way down the hall, and I couldn't bring myself to tear my eyes off their affectionate gesture. "What was that about?" Phil's voice was sharp, and it nearly made me jump out of my skin. I put my free hand over my heart, trying to calm myself. "Jesus, Phil. You've gotta warn a mate before pulling shit like that." He rolled his eyes at me, but it wasn't aggressive. It almost seemed ... playful. As he started off in the direction of our next class, I considered confronting him about the sudden mood swing; but who was I to complain? I took my first couple steps quickly, hurrying to catch up with him.

We arrived in Mr. Siraski's class several minutes early, despite our slight hallway delay. We set our stuff on the desks we'd been in yesterday, in the very back with him on my right. Phil sat with his right arm resting on the table part of his seat, and his left rested on the top of his chair. I could feel his eyes on me, therefore I looked at him. The second our eyes met, his fluttered, and he turned to grab something. I tilted my head in confusion, but yet again, I didn't question him. I was surprised by my ability to hold my tongue, but I knew the real reason behind my sudden self control. It was because I knew that if I confronted him, we'd be back to square one.

Mr. Ass started talking, telling us to take notes on the PowerPoint as he clicked through the slides at warp speed. About four slides in I gave up (as if I had been taking successful notes to begin with,) and decided now would be as good a time as any to check up on Lester. I let my eyes dart in his direction, hoping to see something interesting; besides the beautiful face, of course. I ended up focusing on his hands. His long, pale fingers were picking at the little hole filled lining that he had spent the last 5 minutes pulling off his paper. Once he was done dismembering it, he rolled it up into a bunch of little wads. He picked the first one up, rolled it between his surprisingly pretty fingertips, and tossed it discreetly over the heads of the students and up towards the front of the room.

I must of had a surprised look on my face, because the next one landed in my open mouth. My nose wrinkled as I spit it out dramatically, drawing bits of attention from the students around us. I looked up to scold him, but he was in the process of flinging paper all over the place. It appeared he was aiming for the ground, but his directional sense wasn't exactly the best, because he ended up hitting several people in the head. They looked at him in annoyance, but nobody outed him as being a wrong doer, which surprised me, considering that people always take any chance they get to be the tattle tale.

He was done by the time the slideshow was over, and he was looking very proud of himself once Mr. Siraski dismissed us without taking any disciplinary measures. I scooped the pile of garbage I never used to do any 'schoolwork' with, and looked up to see if Phil was gonna walk with me again. He was.

We stepped out the door, and I was confronted with a wave of blunt disappointment, considering that I wasn't going to see Phil for the rest of the day. He was walking slightly in front of me, a bounce in his step. The very edge of his tongue was trapped between his teeth, and his eyes were alight with happiness as he smiled at something only he understood. I wish I could remember that moment better, because from what I do remember, that would have been a good image to get me through the next couple years of my life.

We arrived at our lockers moments later, mine being first this time. I pulled the door open while he could see me, but the second his back was turned I looked up to watch him walk away. He pulled his door open, and met my eyes; his adorable grin still intact, mind you. I couldn't look away. His almost shut smiley eyes had me transfixed. I leaned my forehead against the edge of my locker door, our eyes still locked. His smile slowly fell, and his face was filled with some emotion he quickly hid behind his own door. I sighed, knocking my head against the metal lightly as punishment for being responsible for ending one of Phil's smiles. I heard loud footsteps behind me, and I looked over my shoulder. I turned around fully when I saw the back of Phil's head, walking off to his next class. I looked back and forth between his retreating figure and the locker I could've sworn he'd been at a second earlier. His back and shoulders were tense as he jogged down the hall, and I felt my stomach clench in guilt. I'm not an idiot, I know when I'm responsible for Phil's anxiety, and that was the first incidence.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Especially for you, XxMissWriter16xX ;)**

I was distracted throughout the rest of the day, to say the least. During the last hour of the day, I was tapping my pencil incessantly on my desk. I was even starting to annoy myself, but I couldn't stop the spasm like movement of my wrist. The bell ringing was the key to my freedom as I jumped up out of my seat, dashing for the door with my books barely restrained. I was one of the first in the hall, and yet Phil was already walking towards the doors. I felt my face morph with surprise. I looked at my locker, and back at Phil, and decided it was time I figured out what the fuck was up with today.

I yet again found myself running after him, and yet again questioned the morals behind the action. He started walking faster as I approached, leading me to assume he knew it was me. "Phil!" I said rather loudly, quieting the people around us. He turned as if he hadn't heard me coming, and his face was happy for a split second before it went dark. "Yes, Daniel? I have places to be." He said bitterly. I'm telling you if voices could wear masks, Phil would be the poster child. The way he looked at me made me want to go through with the confrontational plan, but the secretly hopeful light in his eyes made me choose a different angle. _Kill 'em with kindness, Howell._

"Um, I was wondering how you're feeling? You seemed upset with me earlier, and I wanted to make sure you didn't go home thinking I was mad at you. 'Cause I'm not. I mean, I find it very unlikely that I'll _ever_ be mad at you, but I didn't want you to assume-" He cut me off by putting a hand on my shoulder. It made the breath stop coming up through my throat. It made the words stop forming behind my lips. It made my brain go into hyper drive. Because Phil was touching me. "Are you seriously asking how I am?" I heard his voice differently, because it was through clouded ears. I nodded, hoping my face wasn't revealing what a difficult time I was having keeping my shit together. He dropped his hand, his eyes hitting the ground as he realized the obvious affection behind my current state of being. I felt myself relax the minute his skin left mine, but the feeling was immediately accompanied by the urge to touch him; and I (stupidly) didn't resist.

I reached my left hand out, putting two fingers beneath his dropped chin. I lifted his face up, and I felt him gasp slightly as I guided our eyes into meeting. I let my hand drift slightly, my fingers reaching up to cup his cheek. My thumb brushed across his cheekbone, and he really started looking at me. The way his eyes started focusing on each individual feature on my face dared to make me self-conscious. This was so different from every other kind of eye contact I had experienced. It was soft, but aggressive in the way only Phil's miniature oceans could achieve. He took a tiny step towards me, and my heart did a cartwheel. I could feel the muscles in my legs trembling as our faces drew closer. I was very ready to kiss him, when he backed up. He took my outstretched hand in both of his, and clasped his fingers around mine. He looked at my entrapped hand, and then up and into my eyes, with a sad kind of desperation coating his posture. "I can't." My eyebrows furrowed, and his eyes fluttered shut for a moment. "I wish I could, but I just can't." He said quietly, and then let go of me completely. He stepped away, and turned to walk out the door.

I stood there motionless for a while, trying desperately to lower my heart rate. I was left in the dust by my classmates, who were all out of the building within the minute. I couldn't help but feel slightly bereft, having been tricked into thinking Phil liked me as anything more than an acquaintance. I was slowly making my way back to my locker, when a very concerned looking Anthony approached me. "Hey, are you okay? You look kinda pale." He said, and it sounded loud in my suddenly unplugged ears. I looked him in the eye, but I couldn't bring myself to say anything, so I shook my head and continued en route to my locker.

I quickly exchanged my useless supplies for my backpack, and slung it over my shoulder. I could feel my face heating up, and it took me a second to recognize the feeling. _Rejection. That's what it is._ I know it sounds silly to feel rejected by someone you never had a relationship with, but I doubt I'm the only one. I dragged my nails over my strap nervously, the scraping sound distracting me from my emotions. I stepped out through the door, and realized I had missed the buses home. I groaned, slouching even more as I stamped my foot lightly.

I looked around at the deserted school grounds, and thought about how many bacteria cells traveled through this space daily. I was pulling out my phone to call somebody for a ride, when I heard very distinct giggling from behind me. I turned around slowly, spinning on the balls of my feet. Chris and PJ emerged from the doors, stumbling rather drunkenly towards the parking lot. I looked at them skeptically, wondering if these were really the boys who had only come out today. _I bet everybody already knew._ I snorted abruptly at that thought, which is what caused them to freeze like deer. My eyes widened with apologies. "No, no, I wasn't laughing at you, I was just thinking about something from earlier-" I said quickly, but PJ stopped me, as they strolled over confidently, hand in hand. "No problem, bud. Why are you still here?" He asked, much less cautiously than he had been this morning. _What did Chris do to you?_

I looked around at our dull surroundings, trying to come up with an answer that didn't sound like a lie. "Oh, um, just lost track of time I guess." I could tell from the way they glanced at each other that I was not being convincing. "Do you need a ride?" PJ asked politely. I pointed at him as I questioned him, my social awkwardness showing through. "You drive?" He nodded, so I smiled and accepted the offer, following them across the lot. I hopped into the backseat of his small Toyota, and fidgeted with my fingers as they started chatting about the difference between Jackasses and Asshats. I directed him to my house, and he dropped me off with nothing more than a wave and a simple goodbye.

As I jogged into my temporary home, I was surprised by Ian and Anthony. They were on the couch, pushing each other playfully and heart-eyes-ing the fuck out of each other. I smiled unconvincingly at them, and rolled my eyes when they paid me no attention. I trotted up the stairs, and threw my bag on the ground with more force than I had intended. I yanked my phone from my pocket, and plopped down onto my bed; wishing to forget everything about thin frames and blue eyes and raven hair. Of course, for the next two hours I did nothing but surf social media to try and figure out what the fuck he was hiding, with no success.

 _Damn it, Phil. Why are you so inaccessible and so sincere all at the same God damn time? It makes it way too hard to hate you._


	10. Chapter 10

I sighed when my alarm went off, knowing that school would bring me no happiness today. I threw my legs over the side of the bed, and pushed myself up by pressing my hands into the duvet. I looked myself over in the mirror, and decided the black sweatpants and sonic shirt I wore to bed would be good enough for school. I trudged down the stairs and out the door, my stomach twisting when I saw Ian and Anthony at the bus stop together. _Why does everyone have someone? Why don't I?_ Of course, my next thought was to smack myself. I didn't need anyone to be happy, especially in more than a friendly way.

I had dragged my feet all the way to the curb, which is probably why I didn't hear the extra footsteps on my right. I, of course, automatically assumed it would be him. I shifted my gaze just enough to see the person's outline, and it most definitely was. In that moment, I wanted to be mean to him. To make him feel bad by telling him how sad he'd made me. I wanted to tear him apart with the hate filled words that came so easily to me when I was talking to anyone else. But one look at him, and I knew I couldn't do it. Phil's sad eyes were too much to witness, let alone cause.

He stopped unbearably close to me, and I couldn't control my eyes. I looked over at his adorable, uncharacteristically messy hair, and couldn't help but smile. He was also wearing sweatpants, but his were light grey. He had on a baggy galaxy print sweatshirt; which made me wonder if he had also chosen pajamas. The dark circles under his glassy eyes answered that question for me. When the bus arrived, I let him walk in front of me, and sat across the aisle from him. Throughout all of that, the only words he said to me were "I like your hair like that." Of course, looking back on it, he had seen my morning hair before then. So why he chose that moment to compliment my curly mess, we may never know.

Once we arrived at the dreaded destination, I was faced with a problem. Me and Phil were going to the same place, and then leaving that place to go to the next place. Together. Even if we weren't walking together, I knew we would end up next to each other. I would have to look into his perfectly blue eyes and observe his perfectly bright smile and shield myself from his perfectly armored sass. The thought made my chest tighten. I could feel my body start to heat up with anxiety as I stood up to get off the bus. I didn't wanna look at him. I didn't wanna talk to him. I knew it would lead to me falling for him, and I had already done enough of that.

I pushed past a couple freshman to get off the bus as quickly as possible, which I didn't really regret. I dashed across the short stretch of pavement that separated the feet of the students from the street and the grass. I sat down hard behind the lone spruce that decorated the school grounds, and was hit with some minor deja vu. I closed my eyes, letting the morning sunlight bathe my eyelids. It burned, but in a good way.

It wasn't until I tried to relax, that I realized how worked up I was. I let my shoulders fall out of their tense position, and they dropped more than an inch. I was sweating, and I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand. I inhaled until I felt full, and exhaled until I was purple. I let my lungs rise and release in a natural pattern, having to guide them back to non-hyperventilation every once in awhile. I let my my hands fall out of their strained position, and the backs of my fingers nuzzled the grass. I took deep breaths as I started to drift out of consciousness. I could feel myself becoming a puddle of fatigue, and I didn't try to stop it.

"Dan! DAN!" Someone was trying to wake me up. Someone was shaking my shoulder. My eyelids snapped open, and I flung my body on top of my feet as I stood; trying to control my muscles unsuccessfully. I was dazed, to say the least. I saw Phil's worried face, and took a second to assess my posture. My arms were taught with defense, and my entire torso was slouched. I straightened up as he looked me over, feeling self conscious the second his eyes touched mine. He knit and unknit his fingers as he spoke. "The bell just rang. You weren't at your locker, so I came looking. And you weren't that hard to find, considering the path of knocked over underclassmen you always leave behind." I stared at him blankly for a second, unsure of the emotion he was trying to convey. "Okay. So the bell rang. Why am I supposed to care?" I could feel the acidity of my mood leaking into my words. Phil flinched. "I just wanted to let you know. I'll go now." He didn't turn to leave right away. He stood staring at me for a second, this look of desperation in his eyes; as if there were so many things he wanted to tell me that he would never be able to communicate.

After he had turned and taken a couple steps, I had considered my options, and decided that the only logical course of action would be to befriend him. Now, this of course, went against everything I had planned I would do in America. I had planned on learning about the culture and the schools, and then getting the fuck out. But this lanky vampiric raven ocean boy, had changed everything. I could have stood there all day and considered the necessity of a moral compass, but time was of the essence.

"Hey, Phil! Wait up." I jogged to his side, and he turned surprisingly quickly. The speed at which he reacted wasn't the only surprising thing, because the _way_ he reacted was just as odd. He flung his arms open, and pulled himself into my chest. My arms were frozen in wide shock for a moment, but I eventually wrapped them around his smaller frame. He was the softest thing I had ever held, and I've held some pretty fluffy kittens in my day. His soullessly black hair nuzzled my chin, and his warm torso was heating mine up at an exponential rate. He squeezed me a little bit tighter, and then let me go; sort of.

He slid one of his hands down my arm, and linked our fingers together.

Now, let me tell you, Phil's actions are always hard to interpret, for reasons that will be understood soon enough. But when he did that, it was probably the peak of my confusion. His skinny fingers wiggled in between mine, and then clasped around my knuckles. I could feel the look of shock on my face, and I didn't have time to hide it as his unpredictable eyes met mine. I looked back at him with the way I was feeling plastered all over my gaping mouth and fluttering heart. Then, that little sexy ass ho _giggled_. A tiny smile danced across his lips, and a small puff of air escaped through his nose.

By this point, I had given up trying to figure out what the fuck was going on. I let him pull me along to my locker, drop me off, then continue to his own. I ran over the past couple minutes in my head, and looked down the empty hallway at his half hidden form. I groaned and let my body lurch forward, resting my forehead on the shivering metal of my just closed locker. As I moped and questioned my (and his) intentions, the bell pierced my brain and shook the school awake. People came flooding out of rooms, and surrounded me unintentionally. I pulled away from the wall, and turned to walk through the rambunctious crowd.

I was about 5 steps closer to Mr. Siraski's room when Phil's hand brushed my shoulder. I looked at him, stunned, and he retracted his hand, wrapping it back around his books as he fell into step next to me. I wanted to reach out and take his hand again. I wanted to reassure him that I was very much okay with that, but I had too many questions. _Why is he touching me today? Why did he just pull his hand away? Would it be okay if I started touching him too, or is this just a Phil thing? Like black hair dye and galaxy sweatshirts; nobody else could make those things genuinely sexy._

I was nowhere near done being confused, but as we stepped into Mr. Siraski's classroom, I was beginning to hope. I started hoping that he was touching me for all of the reasons I wanted to touch him. That he didn't mean it in a platonic way. I wanted him to be into me. I wanted it bad. Like, an embarrassingly large amount, now that I think about it.

I set my stuff in my desk, and sat down slowly; my eyes following him as he walked around behind me. His arm brushed my shoulder on his way by and goose bumps rose on my skin. I could feel myself quickly losing control of the temporary hold I had had on my feelings. I shook my head at my infernal emotional abilities. All he had to do was touch me, and I was ready to be his forever.

"Ahem, okay. Are we ready for class, ladies and gents?" Mr. Siraski said, the usual guttural groans of hatred coming from my classmates mouths. Except, after a short moment, there was one small voice, that was low in volume but filled with confidence. "Um, sir? You know, there are more than just girls and boys in here." My jaw just about hit the floor. I turned (along with the rest of the class) towards the pale producer of those words, who was leaning back into his chair, his arms over his chest contritely. Mr. Siraski rose an eyebrow at Phil's casual yet aggressive posture. "Excuse you, Mr. Lester, but I said nothing to discredit that, and I don't know why you feel the need to bring such things up." Phil narrowed his eyes, and leaned forward onto his desk, pushing himself up by the sides of his forearms. "You said 'ladies and gents,' correct? Well, if a student of yours doesn't identify simply as a 'boy' or a 'girl,' calling them that would not be very respectful." I wanted to start clapping, but I knew he would be mad if I spoiled his moment with a cheesy Dan reaction. Mr. Siraski's entire face looked tense, like he was trying not to admit that he was just corrected by a student. He cleared his throat, and spoke again. This time, his voice was timid, like he felt sheepish but was to much of a dick to apologize. "Are we ready for class, students?"

Everyone shifted back towards the front, and whispered amongst themselves as Mr. Douche started talking about the French revolution. I was still staring at Phil when he turned to look at me.

He giggled again, and this time I could see one hundred percent of the sunshine. Plus, this time, his tongue stuck out a little bit, and he seemed to catch it between his front teeth. I could feel myself staring at him, so I smiled to make it a little less weird. _He giggled. He giggled because of me._ Once it was clear that Phil found me comical, my only goal in life was to make him laugh.

I could feel my palms sweating throughout the rest of class. The amount of times I glanced at him became far too many to count. My heart was disqualified for false starting the 100 meter dash every time our eyes met. My first hour was eventful, to say the least. But eventually, it came to an end. Everyone around us made their way to the exits, and me and Phil stayed stationary. I could've cut the sexual tension with a knife.

He stood first, and I followed once he picked up his things. I didn't allow myself to look up at him as I gathered my books, but out of the corner of my eye, I swear I saw him bite his lip. Now, if you've never fallen for someone really hard and really fast, let me explain it to you. It's like agreeing to sing karaoke with Adele. You know you're gonna sound awful in comparison no matter what you do, and yet it's fucking Adele, so you know that if you don't agree, you're going to regret it for the rest of your life. Understand? Great.

He walked with me to my locker, and we brushed shoulders a total of 12 times. We arrived at mine, and he stayed. He stood right behind me, and waited for me to grab the textbook I needed for my next class. As I bent down to get it, I remember feeling him behind me and thinking ' _I guess Phil tops.'_ Not my proudest moment.

After I shut my locker, I turned to face him. He was so close. He was too close. I could feel my legs shaking. His eyes were so blue. His lips were so pink. His face was so soft. I only realized that as I reached up to touch his cheek. He barely reacted. He was staring at me so intently that I could feel myself unraveling. He touched my hand. He reached up, and wrapped his delicate fingers around my wrist. He ran his thumb over the back of my hand, and then he pulled it away. He brought my hand to his lips, and kissed where his thumb had been. Then he released it, and spoke the words that I would soon replay in my head.

"I tried. I tried so hard. I want so badly to... to... I don't know what I want anymore. All I know, is that this feeling I get when I'm around you will never stop. It'll just build up, and build up, like it already has, and then I'll have to reject you. Over and over. Or worse, I'll cave. I'll let my feelings take me over. I can't let that happen again. All of Lancashire knows what happens when I let my feelings rule my life, I don't need all of America to know too.

Goodbye, Dan. I wish I was different."


	11. Chapter 11

Phan 11

I sniffled, and it echoed against the tile of the empty school bathroom. My eyes were locked shut, and I was praying that no one would come looking for me. I wanted to laugh at myself for that. I had locked myself in an independent cage, I didn't have anybody that would come looking for me. Well, not anymore.

I hadn't realized how much I enjoyed his company until he revoked it completely. That had been my reason for running to the bathroom the second he left. My reason for allowing my self to tearlessly sob for the majority of the morning. My reason for leaving school early, a determined pride in my step as I left through the intimidating front doors without a word to the secretary. They were so surprised by my appearance that they didn't even question me. I can't even imagine how scary I looked. Over six feet tall dressed in all black with a slight sob still coating my throat. I wouldn't have questioned me either.

I started up the sidewalk the way I had this morning. Of course, this time there was no transport other than my defiant steps. It had been several hours since today's bus fiasco, so the sun had shifted into just the right position to burn all of my exposed flesh. I made my way closer to the designated deja vu tree, and all of the sudden, there was a sound other than the scrape of my shoes against the pavement. It was a sniffle. The sound of a nose on a sleeve. The sound of re-positioning against the grass.

I slowed my pace, praying that whoever it was hadn't heard me yet. I took my next three steps very carefully, making no sound as I craned my neck to see if it was someone who's opinion mattered. All I saw was a bit of galaxy fabric, and I took in air convulsively; letting it scrape my throat on it's way to my lungs. I swallowed my sudden anxiety, the need to make him feel better being all that mattered. "Phil?" I questioned quietly, and the noise stopped.

He stood slowly, after a long pause. He turned around, resting his hands against the bark as he peeked around the corner. He took one look at me, and came running. He threw his arms around me and buried his face in my neck. I wrapped my arms around him as he sobbed, his body convulsing against mine as he let out tears I didn't know the cause of.

He pulled away after about 30 seconds of soaking my T-shirt. He left his hands on my shoulders, and he was still pulled tight against me. His tear streaked face was so close to mine, and yet all I could see was how beautiful his eyes were. The way the fissured red veins contrasted with the bright blue irises made me wonder if I could ever be a normal person, who didn't see everything from an artistic perspective. Spoiler alert, I'm still a weirdo.

Anyways, allow me to get to the good part. He slid his hands backward, and I thought he was gonna push me away, but he linked them together on the back of my neck. He looked down, sniffling miserably before meeting my eyes. My arms were still cradling him around the waist, and he was still so close. I thought I could feel his heart, but it was actually just my pulse raging in my ears. He opened his mouth to speak, and the words that left him were not at all what I was expecting.

"Dan, I have a problem." I swallowed hard, my discomfort obviously showing. "What kind of problem?" I tried to ask casually, but there's only so many steps an awkward human can take. Then, there was the kicker.

"You."

He said it defiantly, like he'd been waiting ages to admit it to himself. "What did I do to become a problem?" He bit his lip. "You were nice to me. You didn't ask me invasive questions about why I am the way I am. You just let me be the weird, mood swing infested nerd I am." I cleared my throat slightly as my palms started sweating. Being in his close proximity for so long was taking a toll on my self control. "I dont understand, how is me being nice a problem?" He exhaled, and I felt it everywhere.

"The last time I felt this close to someone, bad, bad, things happened." He wasn't crying anymore, he looked ticked. His face was still red, but his hands were in fists against my spine and his shoulders had gone tense. "I don't know if I'll ever have the courage to explain it to you, and that's where the problem arises." His voice got quieter, and he seemed to realize how close our faces were. He didn't back away. "Dan, when was the last time you had a crush?" Goosebumps. Everywhere. His words washed over me like the plague. His fingers relaxed and found their way into the hair at the nape of my neck. "Has the thought of someone ever consumed you, their every move making you weak at the knees?" His face was getting closer. His lips were moving slowly. I could catch them with mine at any second. "Has anyone ever been too beautiful for you to comprehend? So kind, that you don't know whether or not to believe their sincerity?" It was less than an inch. He was closing in. He must've been able to feel me shaking. He whispered one last thing before his lips met mine. "Have you ever looked in a mirror?"


End file.
